


The Case of the Dying Detective

by BlueZaca



Category: Perry Mason (TV), Perry Mason - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, The Case of the Carefree Coronary, decided to try something a bit different and write the same event just with different pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueZaca/pseuds/BlueZaca
Summary: Paul Drake had a heart attack, or at least that’s what everybody thought, in reality he had been poisoned. Regardless, he was in the hospital dying. Set during the episode of “The Case of the Carefree Coronary”. I thought it would be interesting to write it from three different AU POV. One where Paul and Della are a couple, one where Paul and Perry are a couple, and one where none of them are dating persay, but are best friends. (Although, I have to admit, they’re best friends in every single of the AUs regardless.)





	1. Paul Drake and Della Street

Paul was dying.

Paul was dying.

Paul was dying.

It was all she could think of. It was all she could do to stumble into the courtroom and tell Perry.

She stumbled into the courtroom, she choked back the tears in her voice, she told Perry that Paul had a heart attack and was dying.

She knew it wasn’t perhaps the best courtroom behavior, to literally call away the defense attorney to start crying into his chest, but it was what she was doing. It was all she could do. It was all she could do to not collapse. Perry had comforted her, she had comforted him, many many times before for many different things. It was what best friends did. And this time they both needed comfort. So while she knew that crying into and hugging the defense attorney in court maybe wasn’t the best courtroom behavior….well, she hoped the judge would understand.

She had somehow kept her crying to a minimum in the courtroom though. She told Perry, through cracking voice, buried herself into his chest and let her tears fall, his arms around her, and then he asked to be excused from the courtroom. And of course it was granted.

And while Perry drove them to the hospital, Della felt her own heart closing up. It felt like _she_ was slowly dying along with Paul. It felt like someone had stuck a knife into her chest, and would twist and turn it with every breath she took.

Perry was gripping the steering wheel. To anybody else it would have looked like he was unaffected. His composure was calm, or at least it seemed to be. When he asked the judge to be excused from the courtroom his voice seemed steady.

But Della knew better. Della knew that Perry was doing everything in his power to keep his nerves from completely shattering. Perry was currently gripping the steering wheel so tightly she could almost see his knuckles changing colors.

She felt the knife twisting again in her heart. A sob in her throat. Her eyes were burning, the tears stinging her eyes, she had stopped wiping away the tears, they came much to quickly back after she wiped them.

“He’s _dying_.” Her voice cracked.

Perry only gripped the wheel tighter.

She didn’t want to think about the fact she might have to spend the rest of her life without him, the rest of her life and never being able to wake up in Paul’s arms again. She didn’t want to think about it. But it was all she _could_ think about.

“He’s going to be okay.” Perry said softly, his own voice tight.

“Speculation.” Della half laughed, a sob in her throat which turned her attempt at a half hearted joke into more of just a cry.

She leaned into Perry, clutching at him, her tears soaking into his suit. He wanted to put an arm around her, to try and reassure her, but he couldn’t seem to let go of the wheel. His hands were starting to cramp from how tightly he was digging into the steering wheel, but it was all he could do to keep from crying himself.

“He’s going to be okay.” He said again.

Her breathing was ragged, the knife twisting again, her tears stinging her eyes even more than she thought possible.

“He’s going to be okay.” Maybe if he kept saying it, he would believe it himself. Maybe if he kept saying it, maybe it would come true.

“He’s going to be okay. And whenever you two decide, I’m going to be your best man at the wedding.”

She looked up at him, a sad half smile played at her face through the tears.

“You two can argue over where you have the wedding, you can discuss what flavor of cake you want, what music you want, but the one thing you aren’t allowed to discuss is who the best man is going to be because I’m calling that _right now_. Actually, I said that a long time ago, but I’m saying it officially now.” His grip was still tight, his breathing controlled, he was doing everything he knew to keep calm. He had to.

A laugh escaped her throat through the sobs.

“We’re here.” Perry said as he pulled into the hospital.

He pulled her in for a hug before they got out of the car. And then before he could start crying himself, they went up into the hospital.

 

Della waited outside when Perry went into talk to the doctor. She sat down outside of the room, her head in her hands.

She didn’t want to lose him.

She didn’t want to go to a funeral.

She didn’t want to see him lowered into the ground, dirt thrown on top of his casket, flowers on his grave.

She wanted to wake up. She wanted to wake up with her arm around Paul, their fingers intertwined, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. She wanted to wake up and then tell him, _I’m glad you’re here. You wouldn’t believe the nightmare I just had._

But, she knew this wasn’t a nightmare she could wake up from. Paul was in the next room and he was dying. Paul was dying. Paul was dying. _Paul was dying._ _  
_ There wasn’t anything she could do about it. All she could do was pray, hope, and cry. She was doing a lot of all three.

She remembered the first time that he had told her “ _I love you”_ and meant it as a sweetheart.

She remembered the moment they _became_ sweethearts. It was almost instantaneous. It wasn’t a matter of going out on a first date, or having to get to know each other. It had simply been that he had always had a crush on her, but was too afraid to say anything because he didn’t want to hurt her, to make her uncomfortable, to make her feel trapped. So he would continue being a gentleman, and flirting innocently, all the while he knew that if he ever did anything that made her even _seem_ or look the least bit uncomfortable he would stop. And then one day, when they were alone in the office, there was something that day that made her realize. Made her realize that she could walk right up to Paul and kiss him and he would kiss back. And so she did. And he did also.

Perry had been out on a case and Paul had come over, and they were alone in the office. And she wasn’t quite sure what about it that day made her realize it, but she did. And she remembered vividly how she leaned in to kiss him. And the shock that was on his face as he realized what was happening, and then the sheer _happiness_ that flooded his face as he leaned in the rest of the way. And how when they kissed, it felt like fireworks going off. And then how they broke the kiss breathlessly.

 _“I love you, Della.”_ He said softly, his fingers through her hair.

And that was the moment they became sweethearts. And that’s the moment he first said _“I love you”_ to her and said it as a sweetheart.

She remembered the first night they spent together. How it felt to be in his arms, how it felt to hold _him_ in _her_ arms. She remembered how they awoke the next morning, his body wrapped around hers, their fingers intertwined, the way she fit perfectly against him.

She remembered all the mornings she woke up with him in her arms, and how she would kiss that sweet spot in the crook of his neck and then whisper, _“It’s time to wake up.”_ And then he would groan and go back to sleep without even stirring, and she’d then say, _“If you don’t get up you’re gonna miss breakfast, and that’ll be your own fault.”_ And then he would open one eye and turn back to look at her and say, _“You know the way to hurt a guy don’t yah.”_ And then they’d laugh, and kiss, and start their day.

And now he was dying.

_Please, please, please, don’t die. Please._

Perry came out of Paul's room. He was going back to court. He had to.

She just wanted to stay there. She wanted to make sure he was okay. She didn't want to leave him. _She didn't want_ **_him_ ** _to leave her._

She collapsed into Perry. Hugging him. Clutching him.

He told her they probably wouldn't let her in yet. She begged him to try and convince them otherwise.

"Are you sure? They say he's," he hesitated. "He's getting," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Better." He shook his head and sighed. "But he's still hooked up to gadgets and, well, hospital things. It's not the easiest thing to see."

"I don't care." She said through the tears. "I want to be there. I want to be with him when he wakes up."

"I'll see what I can do." He hugged her tightly then went to find a doctor.

He returned shortly, and told her they said she could go in.

He walked in with her. She gripped Perry's hand tightly when she seen Paul laying there.

She _knew_ he was there. She _knew_ they said that he was dying. She _knew_ that.

But the knife in her heart still twisted when she saw him lying there. She had tried to prepare herself. She had tried to steady herself. Perry had warned her. But she still felt like she was dying along with him when she saw him.

Perry lead her over to a chair near Paul's bed. She sat down, trying to steady herself.

He didn't want to leave her. But he had to be back in court. The judge had recessed court but he still had to be back. He didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to leave Paul. But he had to.

"You need to get back." Her gaze locked on Paul, but her hand still clutching Perry's hand.

"Are you going to be okay?" His gaze also locked on Paul.

"I'll be okay when Paul's okay." There was a melancholy laugh in her cracking voice.

"He's going to be okay." _And whoever did this to him is going to pay._

"I love you, Perry." She squeezed his hand.

"I love you too, Della." He leaned down to hug her once more. He looked longingly at Paul once more, and whispered, "You better get well, Paul." And then he left.

She didn’t know what they were doing to Paul. She didn’t know what everything hooked up to him was for. All she knew was that she was going to be there when he woke up. All she knew was that she _needed_ him to wake up.

She needed him to be okay.

* * *

She didn’t remember falling asleep. She just remembered waking up, her hand in Paul’s, she was slumped forward in her chair, her head resting on Paul’s bed. She blinked her eyes open and Paul was smiling at her.

“Hey, Beautiful.” He said softly.

“Paul! Thank God above you’re _okay_.”

“Of course I’m okay. You on the other hand, look like you need go home and go to bed.”

“I’m not going without you, _beautiful.”_

He grinned at her and squeezed her hand.


	2. Paul Drake and Perry Mason

Paul was dying.

Paul was dying.

Paul was dying.

He was clutching Della. She had stumbled into the courtroom to tell him. She was crying. She was sobbing. And it was all he could do to remain steady.

_Paul was dying._

He felt an emptiness come over him. A void. It felt like someone had yanked out the floor from underneath him. It felt like someone had reached in and taken his heart and dropped it in front of him. It felt like someone had somehow taken his soul and now he was just a shell.

He remembered asking the judge for a recesses. He remembered getting in the car. He remembered gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were changing colors and he was positive there was blood loss in his fingertips.

Della let out a sob. “He’s going to be okay.” She said through the tears. Her voice catching in her throat.

He didn’t say anything. He was afraid he couldn’t.

“He’s going to be okay.” She said again. She wiped at more tears that burned her eyes. Wiping at them seemed to be fruitless, they just kept coming back.

He felt empty. There was almost a vague burning sensation in his chest, a catch in his throat, and a burning in his eyes that he wouldn’t let turn to tears.

All he could think about was the fact he might lose Paul.

“He’s going to be okay.” She was leaning against him as he drove, her head resting on his shoulder.

“How do you know?” His voice was tight and low. _How do you know?_

“The same way I knew both of you were in love with each other and were both to scared or oblivious to actually tell the other.” She laughed through her tears.

He let out a small laugh that was more of just an exhale and a smile. “Thanks, by the way. For getting us together the way you did.”

“It was my pleasure.” She squeezed his arm and buried her face back in his shoulder. Her tears soaking his suit.

He thought of the first time Paul and him kissed. It was such a strange and wonderful feeling. It was something he never thought he’d be lucky enough to do. It was something he never thought he would be lucky enough to do so he even kept his mind from daydreaming about it. Although, he had to admit, no daydream could ever compare to what it was actually like. He could have imagined the most wonderful kiss, and it would always fall short of what it was actually like to hold him in his arms.

He thought of the first time they fell asleep on the couch in each other’s arms. He thought of how he had woken up, Paul’s arm around him, his head nestled against Paul’s chest. How he had felt so _wonderful._ But how he had also felt so damn _cold_ because they didn’t have a blanket. How he laid there, just listening to Paul’s heartbeat and his breathing. And how he didn’t want to move, how he didn’t want the moment to ever end. But, then he decided to face the fear he was feeling. And he said in a low voice, “ _Paul. Hey, Paul.”_

 _“Hmm?”_ Paul answered, half asleep.

_“I’m cold.”_

“ _Hmm?”_ Paul pulled Perry in closer, if that was even possible.

Perry remembered how he felt his heart race. And how he realized how _silly_ it was to be so anxious when he was literally encircled by Paul’s arms right now. So he shoved down his anxiety and said, _“Let’s go to bed.”_

He felt Paul stir and then sat up, his arms never leaving Perry.

 _“Okay.”_ Paul placed a soft kiss in the crook of Perry’s neck.

Perry thought about how their hands intertwined. How they stood up and walked to the bedroom. How they slipped beneath the covers, how he laid his head against Paul’s chest, Paul’s hand rubbing small circles on his back.

 _“I love you.”_ Perry said softly.

Paul had moved so that he was now face to face with Perry. Their faces close, they could feel the other’s breath on their face they were so close.

 _“I love_ **_you_ ** _.”_ Paul smiled and then kissed him.

 

And now Paul was dying? How could he be dying? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _right_ . Paul couldn't be dying. If he was dying, how could he go on? If Paul died there was no way he could go back into the office. There was no way he could go back into the office without a part of him dying every time he did. Everytime he would have to investigate anything on a case he knew he would just automatically want to tell Della, _“Call Paul Drake.”_ He knew that he would be saying that, or wanting to say that, for years to come. If Paul died, what would he do? How could he go home and know that he would forever be going home alone? Forever going home to an empty bed. He would never find anyone else again. Not after Paul. Why would he want to?

When they got to the hospital, Della went inside with him to see Paul. Something he was grateful for, she was clutching onto his arm. He knew she was doing it for herself, to try and steady her nerves and her shaking, but it was as much for his benefit as hers. He needed her there. When he saw Paul lying there it felt like someone had taken the floor out from under him _again_ . He felt so empty. He felt so _scared_. He knew it was selfish, he should have wanted Paul to get better just for the sake of Paul getting better. But he wanted Paul to get better because he didn’t want to have to face the rest of his life without him. He didn’t want to face the lonely nights, he didn’t want to face the empty mornings. He didn’t want to have to go home every night to his lonely and empty bed. He wanted to wake up next to Paul again. He wanted him to hold him in his arms again.

The doctor was telling them about Paul. Paul didn’t have a heart attack. He was poisoned. He listened to the doctor telling them the details. And then when the doctor left he slumped down into a chair.

All he could think about was the fact he had put him in danger. All he could think about was it could have also been Della lying in the hospital alongside Paul. _And it would have all been my fault._

“He’s going to be okay. And this isn’t your fault.” Della said as if she could read his mind.

“How do you know?” He pressed a hand against his own face. _How do you know?_ He wasn’t sure if the question was in reference to Paul being okay or the fact she said it wasn’t his fault. Maybe it was both.

“He’s going to be okay.” Della got down on her knees in front of him. She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “He’s going to be okay.”

He hugged her tightly. He felt _empty_. He felt so empty. He wanted to cry but he couldn't. He knew the moment he did there would be no stopping it.

“I have to get back to court.” He said softly. _I need to nail the people who did this._

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

“I can drive.”

“No, you can’t. You _could_ , yes. But I don’t want you to.” Her eyes pleading.

“Okay.” He wouldn’t argue. Maybe she was right. She usually was.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“Stay with Paul.” He hugged her again. He felt tears threatening to start falling. He blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time.

“Okay.”

* * *

When he finished in court he called a taxi to go back to the hospital.

 _Please, please, please be okay._ He kept repeating in his head on the ride over there. He was done fighting. Court was over. The people who were guilty had been accused and their justice would be served.

He was done fighting. He had done what he needed to. He was strong when he was needed to be.

So he let his tears fall. He cried silently in the back of the cab. And when they pulled into the hospital he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand till they were dry. Red, but dry nonetheless.

He made his way up to Paul’s hospital room. He knocked softly, then let himself in.

Della had fallen asleep in a chair near Paul’s bed. Her head slumped over onto his bed, her hand in his.

Paul blinked his eyes open when Perry walked in. He smiled at him, “Hi,” he whispered.

Della woke up, and smiled a relieved smile. “You’re okay.”

Perry sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re okay.” He repeated.

“Of course I’m okay!” He grinned at both of them. “Say, Perry, your eyes are a little red.” He placed a hand on the side of Perry's face. Wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“That’s your fault, you know.” Paul’s hand was still on the side of his face. Perry placed his own hand over the top of his. He took his hand in his and squeezed it. Intertwining his fingers with his.

“I’m okay now.”

“You’re not allowed to scare us that much again.” Della placed a kiss on the side of Paul's face.

Paul smiled at both of them, then said, “I don’t know. If scaring you two means you both lavish so much attention on me….” His voice trailed off, a laughter in his voice and eyes.

“ _Paul Drake.”_ Della tried to say sternly, but instead a laugh came through.

“Okay, okay, I promise.” He laughed. And all Perry and Della could think was _Thank God, you’re okay._

“I love you two.” Paul said with a grin.

And then both Perry and Della hugged him.


	3. Paul Drake, Della Street, Perry Mason (friends)

Paul was dying.

Paul was dying.

Paul was dying.

Della had stumbled into the courtroom to tell him. She had choked back her tears as best she could. _Paul was dying_.

The judge granted him a recesses, and now he was driving them to the hospital. His thoughts were jumbled, it felt like he had been punched.

He knew he couldn’t cry. Not yet. Not when there was so much that still needed to be figured out, so much that needed to be done.

Della cried into his shoulder as he drove. It felt like she had just lost her best friend. She hoped she _wouldn’t_. She still had Perry, Perry still had her. But, Perry Mason and Della Street without Paul Drake? It was like an incomplete puzzle. They were all each other’s best friend. They all meant the world to each other.

Paul couldn’t be dying. Not Paul. Not Paul Drake. Not Paul Drake of the Drake Detective Agency. Not _their_ Paul Drake.

If he was dying who would crash their meals and steal their food? If he was dying who would crack the jokes? If he was dying who would make them feel like everything was going to be alright? If he was dying….they didn’t want to think about it.

“He’s going to be okay.” Perry said softly.

“He’s going to be okay.” Della repeated.

They needed him to be okay. They needed him to _not_ die.

_Please, please, please, don’t die._

Della let out another sob, and buried her face in Perry’s shoulder as he drove.

Perry blinked back his own tears. He couldn't cry. Not yet.

_What happens if he doesn’t make it?_ They both thought, but didn’t dare speak. If he didn’t make it, they didn’t know what they would do. Going to work would seem always empty somehow. A missing piece of the puzzle always evident as to what it _should_ be but always knowing they could never replace it. Paul Drake would forever be the third piece to their three piece puzzle. If he didn’t make it, their puzzle would forever be unfinished. Their life always lacking one important unit.

It felt like someone had sliced their chest open, slowly, and now they were slowly bleeding. The pain seering, the hurt throbbing, and there was nothing they could do about it but _wait_.

Perry pulled into the hospital and parked. They locked arms with each other as they went up to Paul’s room.

Perry made her stay outside while he went into talk to the doctor. She wanted to go in. She wanted to be there for both Paul _and_ Perry. And Perry wanted her to be there so that he could hold onto her for support and comfort. But he told her to stay outside just for a moment. So that he could go in and see him. To see what he looked like. To see what he needed to prepare her for.

And he was glad he did. Seeing Paul lying there hooked up to contractions he didn’t know, seeing him lying there so _lifeless_ took the breath out of him. He would warn Della that no matter how much she tried to prepare herself, it would still feel like jumping into the ocean and the water engulfing you and forcing its way into your lungs as you tried to gasp for breath.

And then the doctor told him that it wasn’t a heart attack. That he had been poisoned. And when the doctor told him that, it felt like someone shoved him further under the ocean as he gasped for breath.

He would make the people who did this pay.

When the doctor finished telling him, he went outside to tell Della. She was slumped against the wall, her head in her hands.

“Della,” he said softly and he took her into his arms again.

“How is he?” She choked back a sob.

“He’ll be okay. I have to go back to court.”

“I want to go in with him.”

“Della,” he hesitated. “Brace yourself.”

“Is it that bad?”

“The doctor said he’ll be okay, but seeing him there with all the hospital equipment hooked up is...a sight.”

“Okay.” And then they went in.

It felt like she had fallen off a tall building and couldn’t catch her breath or get her footing.

Perry tightened his grip on her, and she was grateful he held her, because she felt like she was going to hit the ground when she seen Paul.

“He’s going to be okay.” He said as he sat her down in a chair.

“Is he?” She couldn’t stop staring at Paul lying there. And then she snapped her eyes shut. Maybe if she couldn’t see him, maybe he wouldn’t be lying there looking like all hope was gone.

“He’s going to be okay.” He whispered, his eyes watching Paul’s chest rise and fall slightly with each breath.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, in silence, then Della said softly, “You need to get back to court.”

“I don’t want to leave you two.” He said in a low voice.

“We’ll be okay. Do what you need to.” She squeezed his hand.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

They hugged again, and then he left.

She kept repeating a silent prayer, and hoped it would be heard. _Please, please, please don’t let him die. Please, please, please let him be okay._

* * *

 When Perry returned he wiped his eyes again with the back of his hand before he went in.

He knocked softly, Paul’s signature knock, and he let himself in.

“Perry!” Paul grinned and waved.

Della rolled her eyes, her eyes dancing with happiness. “Hi, Perry.”

“Paul! Good to see you back to normal.” Perry smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Normal?! They keep insisting on doing rounds and checking my vital signs! I’m perfectly fine and would like to go _home_ but _they_ don’t seem to think so.”

Della laughed and then said, “Don’t let him fool you, Perry. He keeps flirting with the nurses, I honestly think he’s enjoying this.”

“ _Paul Drake_.” Perry said sternly, then let out a laugh.

“What?!”

“You are _not_ allowed to come anywhere close to a hospital again!” Perry said.

“Not even on a case?!”

“The only reason for you to be near a hospital is to either flirt with nurses or because you’re sick, and I’m not letting you do either again.” Perry tapped his shoulder.

“Why not?!”

“Because, _both_ are bad for your health.” Della shook her head and said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“You two never let me have any fun.” Paul crossed his arms.

Della stuck her tongue out at him. “Paul Drake, once we get out of here you’re taking us both to dinner and dancing for scaring us like that.”

“I second that motion.” Perry said.

“Hey! I object! Why do I have to pay?!”

“Because, I got a neckache from falling asleep in that crazy chair and I’m pretty sure my nerves are positively _shattered_ after today.” Della said matter-of-factly.

“Fine.” Paul said in defeat, a laugh in his voice and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I love yah, you know.” Della poked him in the chest and then placed a soft kiss on the side of his face.

Paul had a lopsided grin on his face and then said, “I love yah, too.” Then he caught Perry’s eye and said, “And you too.” He grinned.

“I love _both_ of you. So very much.” Perry said with a smile.

 


End file.
